I like the poetry of William Carlos Williams. He is a Jersey boy like myself, born in 1883 in Rutherford. He went off to medical school at the University of Pennsylvania, but returned home and had a solid medical practice throughout his life. Simultaneously, he was publishing poems, novels, essays, and plays.

His poem “Spring and All,” begins:

By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast—a cold wind.

It was written just a short time after the publication of T. S. Eliot‘s “The Waste Land.” Both poems open with a rather unpleasant spring season. Eliot wrote that:

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

mt.chocorua from a distance – watercolor by e.e. cummings via eecummingsart.com

 

I am feeling more optimistic about the new season, so I am more in a mood for an E.E. Cummings kind of spring.

in Just-
spring          when the world is mud-
luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles          far          and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

read the full poem by E.E. Cummings

 

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